


Of Our Temporary Existences

by yamabuki_kana (cygnisor)



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Drabble, F/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnisor/pseuds/yamabuki_kana
Summary: In some chance of fate when they are summoned at Chaldea, both Semiramis and Amakusa gain the memories of their parallel selves who were present at Yggdmillennia's Great Holy Grail War.Semiramis wishes to do nothing with it; circumstances are different in each summoning, after all. Amakusa thinks differently.
Relationships: Amakusa Shirou Tokisada | Ruler/Semiramis | Assassin of Red
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Of Our Temporary Existences

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (supposedly for Drabbletober 2018): scar worship/kiss

“On your right, Ruler!”

The warning comes a tad too late. There is a slight cry of pain from Amakusa as the enemy’s sword grazes his arm, serrating off the cloth of his right sleeve. That’s all how far it gets. Amakusa regains his bearing with ease, pulling the enemy closer by its arm, before driving his sword into its skull until its forehead bumps with the sword’s guard in a thud.

Semiramis is silent.

She watches him pull out his sword as the enemy vanishes, its remains blown out into the wind. She watches him as he stands in silent only for a while, chest heaving slightly, blood still running from the fresh wound on his arm. He looks disheveled, his usually pristine garb torn until she can see half of his upper body exposed.

Amakusa catches her looking before she can look away.

He smiles. “Thank you, Assassin,” he says. “I would have gotten off worse if it weren’t for your warning.”

Semiramis doubts it, though she is pleased to hear it in some deep recesses in her heart. “There is no need for that sweet talk,” she tells him as much. “I’m sure you could’ve handled it just fine.”

Something in his smile falters. Semiramis gains a semblance of satisfaction in seeing him that way and both in knowing that she caused that. But then his smile returns, softer than the one he gave her earlier, as well as the light in his eyes.

“Still,” he says, softly, and Semiramis’ heart burns.

“We should head back,” she says, unable to keep the hurry out of her tone. Her heart beats so terribly loud in her ears. “Master must’ve been waiting for us.”

“So soon? Shouldn’t we stay a bit, to enjoy the beautiful view here, just the both of us?”

And Semiramis breathes.

“Stop it,” she says, quietly. Then louder. “Stop it, whatever you are trying to do.”

Amakusa—that man has the gall to look questioning at her, his smile unfaltering. “I’m afraid I do not know what you mean, Assassin.”

Semiramis shakes her head. Her next words aren’t shaky, but it’s hard to keep her calm as the blood rushes to her head, burning and burning and burning. He is such a bad liar.

“This,” she says. “The way you are trying to recreate the relationship between us, as though to mirror the one that our parallels had in that other world.”

And this time, Amakusa’s smile does drop.

Does he think that she wouldn’t realize his efforts at that, since the day he was summoned to this world? That she wouldn’t realize the way his eyes would always trail at the sight of her, whenever she enters his periphery? That she wouldn’t realize the way he would always try to be in whatever team she is assigned to?

“You would do well to remember that I am not that girl, Ruler,” Semiramis says. “That Assassin whose life became your sword, that’s not me. You’ll only find disappointment if you seek for her within me.”

Amakusa stares at her, stunned to silence.

At the sight, Semiramis feels her heart ache, though for unknown reasons. She refuses to seek those reasons.

But then Amakusa smiles again—but this time, he looks apologetic with it. Slightly self-deprecating. His smile looks more honest than ever.

He chuckles. “Am I that bad of a liar, Assassin?”

Semiramis can’t help but to smile. “Yes,” she says, “you are.”

Amakusa looks considering at that, humming. “I see,” he says quietly.

“But,” he then adds, looking up at her. His eyes shine golden, from reflecting the sun’s light. “I still want to learn more about you. That is, if you would let me.”

Semiramis’s heart aches.

Truth be told, if there is one thing she envies from the girl who was summoned as Amakusa’s Servant in that Holy Grail War, it’s this. It’s what Amakusa has been working on with her, since the beginning. The bond of their relationship, her dream intertwining hers.

“You are a persistent man, aren’t you,” Semiramis says, fond, despite knowing deep in her heart that it is not a question but a fact.

Apologetically, Amakusa shrugs. He smiles again at her. “I’m afraid it lies in my nature to be that way.”

This time, Semiramis truly smiles back.

“Goodness, really,” she says, approaching him, her body light. She doesn’t dislike this quality of him. And she thinks... that Semiramis from the other world, she must had liked this quality of his as well. “Well, I do dislike it when I see a person whose hardwork goes unrewarded.”

She’s so close to him now, their eyes easily meet. This close, she can see how he is not that far from her in height, how young he is, his boyish features.

Amakusa’s eyes are wide as he stares at her. “Semiramis...?”

She leans closer to him, and reaches to hold his face. He doesn’t notice this, and Semiramis will never tell this to anyone, but there is a scar there on the smooth of his cheek, a thin line nearly fading. It is hidden, and Semiramis can only know the scar’s existence from the memories of that other Semiramis, who once were a Servant to Shirou Kotomine, from when Hanging Garden of Babylon fell and they both along with it while holding one another.

She kisses him there, on the corner of that scar.

.

_The convergence of our temporary existences perhaps led to a parting which only the dead can remember ever since. Still, though however briefly, it left a mark- that leads us to one another, once more._


End file.
